Derek James looks back at nicknames given to Norfolk villages

Published every two months at 1s/3d people loved it and as time moves on the stories, photographs, poems, and letters are a window on a different time.

For example: In one of the issues E A Gibson of Norwich wrote: “I am sending you a few of the nicknames given to the people of Norfolk villages in days gone by.”

And no offence is intended.

Halvergate – Hares.

Reedham – Rats.

Cantley – Cats.

Aylsham – Fliers.

Hevingham – Liars.

Acle – Asses.

Moulton – Mules.

Beighton – Bears.

Freethorpe – Fules.

Cromer – Crabs.

Runton – Dabs.

Beeston – Babies.

Weybourne – Witches.

Salthouse – Ditches.

Cley – Geese.

Wiveton – Ganders.

Langham – Lions

Stiffkey - Blues.

Also in the same edition is a look at what was happening across the county in 1950.

*Donald Balls, a postman of Eccles, saved the village more than £300. Every night for seven months, after finishing his round at 6pm, he worked single-handed on the job of restoring the 900-year-old flint tower of the village church.

A large part of the tower had fallen into the belfry, damaging one of the bells and endangering the whole structure.

Mr Balls volunteered to help and, night after night, throughout the winter, by the light of an electric bulb, clearing debris and lowering it by bucket to the ground.

After five months, work on the inside of the tower was finished, and then, suspended 70ft above the ground in a home-made cradle, he began replacing the outside flints.

*England’s oldest working farmer, Dan Bullen, of Broadmoor Farm, Carbrooke, celebrated his 104th birthday on September 1 by working all day on his 100-acre farm.

Only helped by his grandson he gave his recipe for long life: “Work hard, live well and lay warm.”

*Members of the Sheringham Urban Council attended a demonstration of model aeroplane flying by the aero-model club in order to determine whether the noise of the models would create a nuisance.

*Norfolk fishermen are supporting a move to increase the minimum size of crabs which may be landed from four-and-quarter inches to four-and-a-half-inches because of the glut of crabs since the war.

And then there was A Norwich Eulogy written by Grace Potter.

I like Norwich

I like its market where people sell

Flowers, fruit, crockery – fish as well

All laid out in the nicest way

And all of it guaranteed ‘fresh to-day’

I like Norwich.

I like Norwich

I like the policeman (his number is eighty)

Who considers one’s slightest problem weighty

He listens, and leans with a courteous air

And says, “Certainly madam” directing with care.

Of all the policemen I ever met

P.C. Eight Nought is the nicest yet –

Yes – I like Norwich.

I like Norwich

I like her cathedral enthroned like a queen,

Stately and beautiful, surrounded by green

Norwich is lovely – I like its people

Every stone and every steeple

Yes – I like Norwich.

I like Norwich

For when all is said and all this is done

They who seek it can find their fun

And they who look for the old and rare

Can go to the Castle Museum where

They will find treasure of ages gone

And doubtless much to reflect upon.

Yes – I Like Norwich.